


Did you say UNCLE?

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Deception, F/M, Gen, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 07:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15137720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Once upon a Time challenge. The prompt is the first two lines.An innocent becomes an unwitting decoy in a plan to destroy a new Thrush stronghold





	Did you say UNCLE?

When Jo had woken up that morning, she could never have imagined how the day would end. She had heard of U.N.C.L.E. but hadn't had any real idea of what it was they did. In only a few hours she had learned far more than the average civilian.

oo000oo

Jo’s attention was caught by a window display and, not looking where she was going, she bumped into a fire hydrant. Nursing a bruised and bloodied knee and a laddered stocking, she also realised that somehow a thread in her hem had been caught and it now showed signs of descent. This area of New York’s east forties wasn’t much frequented, it seemed, so there weren’t many people to see it. She limped on and, seeing a tailor’s repair shop below street level down some steps, thought they might at least lend, or even give her a pin.

She explained her plight to the man working the steam press and he gave her not a pin but a needle and thread and directed her to a changing cubicle to effect a temporary repair. She heard him continue to work the steam press. There was no warning at all when the back wall of the cubicle opened and two men came out. She stood up in a fright and dropped the needle.

“Excellent timing,” said the darker of the two and, taking her by the arm, he led her out before she had a chance to say or do anything about it. Then she began to react. “Just a … what the hell is this? Hey, you,” she said to the man on the steam press, “who are these guys?”

“Very convincing,” said the other man, “but quite unnecessary. He knows why you’re here.”

“Yes, of course, he does – I came to mend my skirt!”

“That’s right. Never mind that now, we’re in a hurry – thanks for getting here early,” said the first man, and they bundled her out and up the steps into a waiting open-topped car. The street was still empty so there was no point in screaming, but she did struggle.

“Relax, lady,” said her captor, sitting beside her in the back. “We’ll take good care of you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of – who are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Keep it up,” said the blond one over his shoulder, “it’s quite good. Now, sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“I don’t want to enjoy the ride. I want to do what I came out to do.”

“Exactly. Now hush – we have to watch for who’s following us.”

“The police, I hope,” she said angrily.

“No, no. Thrush – that’s the hope.”

“If you want to be followed by a disease, that’s up to you, but I want out.”

The blond, hearing this, said, “The thrush you refer to isn’t a disease, it’s a yeast infection.”

“Don’t annoy the lady with pedantry at this early hour, Illya.”

Jo stared her companion. “What kind of a name is that?” she said.

“It’s _my_ name,” said the blond, over his shoulder.

“He’s Russian,” said his colleague.

“Ukrainian,” said the blond.

“Are you two foreign spies or something? I don’t know anything about anything, so you may as well let me go.”

Ignoring her last remark, the dark one said, “Not foreign – well, strictly-speaking, Illya _is_ foreign but he’s working for UNCLE, like me.”

Jo gave up, utterly baffled, and wondered if this was even happening – maybe she was still asleep. Drooping hems, yeast infections, foreign spies, uncles – it could only be the kind of disconnected illogicality contained in a dream. She looked at her companion again and said, “So, what’s _your_ name?”

“Napoleon,” he said. That proved it. She lay back and closed her eyes. Maybe when she opened them again, she’d be back in bed.

oo000oo

There was a screech of tyres as the car made a sharp turn. Jo was flung against the Emperor. He flung an arm across her to stop her falling onto the floor. “You OK?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. Did you say UNCLE?”

“Some time ago, yes.”

“U.N.C.L.E.?”

“That’s it.”

“OK, OK… Listen guys. There’s been a mistake. I’m really not part of whatever this is. Look, see my knee? – I bumped it and tore my skirt.”

Napoleon looked. “That’s quite a bruise – and it’s been bleeding. So, you’re not our decoy. You should have said.”

“I tried to – you wouldn’t listen.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t like to help – now you _are_ here?” said the foreign one – Illya, did the Emperor call him?

She looked at him and then at Napoleon suspiciously. “To do what?”

“To be a decoy,” Illya repeated uncompromisingly. Napoleon sighed. So much for a tactful build up to persuasion.

“What my friend means,” he said, “is that we think there is a new Thrush stronghold that we need to take down – Thrush, T.H.R.U.S.H., is a very unpleasant organisation,” he added.

“We had planned for you to pretend to be someone who has stolen secret UNCLE codes, and to be caught and taken into it,” said Illya.

“And then what?” Jo was no fool, she could see where this might be leading.

“Easy. Then we rescue you and blow it up,” said Illya. She glared at the back of his head.

“What we’ll do,” said Napoleon, taking her assent for granted, “is to stop so you can escape when we detect a tail. Then they’ll pick you up.”

There was a growl from the front. “There’s a car following us.” Illya increased speed.

Napoleon turned to Jo. “Will you do it? Could you struggle a bit and then jump out?”

She made a sudden decision – after all, life was quite dull as a rule. “All right, but if it goes wrong, I’ll sue,” and pretended to struggle out of the embrace he enveloped her in and pushed him away.

Illya slowed down, pulled in, and leaned over into the back as if to stop her escaping.

“What’s your name?” he shouted suddenly as she flung open the door and leapt out.

“Jo,” she shouted back and ran. Napoleon climbed out after her and seemed to trip. He rolled into the road and got up again seemingly with difficulty, his hand in the small of his back. He limped round to climb in beside Illya and another car passed, following Jo’s flight.

oo000oo

She had run fast and now her knee hurt; she stumbled and clutched it as a black car drew up beside her. “My dear young lady,” said a voice, “you seem to be in trouble. May we assist in any way?”

“Oh, please. I’ve hurt my knee and someone’s following me,” she said pitifully.

“May we offer you a ride somewhere?”

“Um, I don’t know whether I should.”

“Oh, we’re quite harmless,” said the voice, which seemed to belong to a grey-haired gentleman in a smart suit. Sitting beside him, reassuringly, was a beautifully dressed woman with platinum blond hair.

“That’s very kind. Are you going into Manhattan, by any chance?”

The man gracefully gestured her to get in and she found herself sitting between them. “Let me offer you a handkerchief for your knee,” said the man, but when she bent over to tie it round the damaged limb, he waved a capsule under her nose and she passed out.

oo000oo

The two UNCLE agents waited until the black car was out of sight before setting off to follow it. “She can’t have run far,” said Illya. “Why don’t you run after her and I’ll follow at a distance.” Reinstating the roof to improve their disguise, he watched Napoleon run to the corner and beckon. Illya stopped beside him and he climbed in again. “They’re heading for the Expressway.”

They were several vehicles and some distance behind their quarry when they saw it turn and double back. Illya quickly pulled into the side and they ducked down as it passed. Seeing an infinitesimal gap in the traffic, Illya gunned the engine and swung the car across into the other lane in pursuit, causing life-threateningly raised blood pressure in several other drivers in the process. It was slow minutes before they were sure they were still following the Thrush car. “There it is,” said Napoleon, seeing it turn off.

“I see it,” said Illya, executing the same turn and pulling in again to observe. “They’re slowing down – parking up.”

They watched it turn into the forecourt of a large building. A man and a woman got out and spoke to a very large man who had emerged to greet them. The woman gestured to the car and he reached in and lifted out the limp figure of their kidnapped decoy.

“That’s Angelique,” said Illya flatly.

“It is, indeed. This could be interesting.”

“Do I get the chance to blow her up?”

Napoleon gave him an Illya-type glare. “That wasn’t what I meant by interesting. Have I ever tried to kill any girl of yours?”

Illya snorted. “Why would you? I don’t willingly consort with Thrush women.”

They continued to watch. “They’ll question her soon and discover that she knows even less than our original decoy,” said Napoleon.

“Do we wait, or go in?”

“Let’s go and recce.”

They circled around to the rear of the building, to avoid being seen from the windows. It looked like any modern business, clean lines, smart paint, and a schematic logo of a bird with wings outstretched. “They can never resist showing off, can they?” whispered Napoleon.

The door at the rear had what looked like a simple lock so rather than making a noisy entrance by blowing it, Illya picked it instead and turned the handle. Slightly surprised to open it so easily, he cocked his head at Napoleon and together they went in.

The corridor was lined with offices whose window-blinds were all drawn. They listened at windows and doors – nothing. They moved on and found a door to a stairway down to a lower level. Creeping quietly down it, weapons drawn, they could hear voices, some calm, some agitated. A door stood open – someone about to walk out drew back. They breathed again and slipped around to the side of it.

“I repeat. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Jo’s voice. “I was kidnapped. They thought I was someone else, and then I got away.”

“UNCLE agents don’t just let people go. They’re better than that,” said a woman’s voice.

Napoleon looked over his shoulder at Illya and winked. Illya rolled his eyes but smiled.

“Well, this time, they weren’t,” said Jo. “I expect they were glad to see me go. Why don’t you let me go, too?”

“I think we need a higher dose, Angelique, don’t you?”

At that, Illya nudged Napoleon and together they moved in. There were several people in white coats in the room as well as Angelique and her accomplice. Jo was strapped into a chair. There was a concerted rush towards them and the two UNCLE agents opened rapid fire, hitting all of them.

Illya turned to release Jo, “Oh, dear,” he said. “We seem to have knocked her out, too,” and pulling the offending dart out of her arm, he released the straps that confined her.

“We’d better take her back and put her in the infirmary – they’ll give her something for the headache.”

“OK, I’ll take her upstairs and get the car,” said Illya. He lifted her and carried her up the stairs and left her lying back in a chair. When he returned with the car, he found that Napoleon had carried Angelique up the stairs, too.

“Napoleon, what are you planning to do with _her_?” he enquired.

“Take her home.”

“Whose home?”

“Hers, of course. We’ll put them together on the back seat – they’ll be fine.”

“Tie her up, or she stays right here.” Illya frowned threateningly as he said this.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” said Illya. “Can I blow it up now?”

oo000oo

Jo awoke with a raging headache. She looked around – she was in a hospital bed in a small white room, and beside her was the foreign spy, the blond agent whose name she had forgotten, whose face she had hardly seen, who had blue eyes that did something to her spine. He smiled and she was lost. “I’m awfully sorry,” he said. “You caught one of our sleep darts. There’s some aspirin here if your head’s bad, but it does wear off.”

“How did I get here – where is this?” she said.

“Well, I carried you out of that Thrush place, and Napoleon and I brought you here, to UNCLE headquarters.”

“Is Napoleon his real name?”

He looked surprised. “Yes,” he said.

“I’ve forgotten yours, sorry – something Ukrainian?”

“Illya,” he said. “Thank you for not saying Russian.”

“Where _is_ your friend? Is he OK?”

“He’s absolutely fine, as far as I know,” he said a little crisply. Napoleon had taken Angelique home and was unlikely to return in the immediate future. He poured some water for her to take the aspirin. “I expect you’d like something to eat,” he said.

“I _am_ a bit hungry – it must be ages since breakfast.”

He was sympathetic. “We don’t give people certificates or votes of thanks,” he said diffidently, “– but – can I take you out for a proper dinner to say thank you for everything?” The look he gave her was a little apprehensive as if he anticipated rejection – weren’t spies meant to be super-confident?

She smiled reassuringly and saw him relax. “I’d like that – but I didn’t really do anything, you know,” she said.

“Not directly, but we achieved what we wanted and you were part of that…”

She laughed. Pedantic, his friend had called him. He was certainly that, but he had anxious puppy eyes and she didn’t like to say no. And she had been in his arms and not even known…

ooo0000ooo


End file.
